Marry me, Ruth
by oldmule
Summary: Harry proposes at Ros's funeral but Ruth's answer is a little different and begins a chain of events that become ever more fluffy!
1. Chapter 1

The opening words are not mine, (they're much better), the characters are not mine and Spooks is certainly not mine.

* * *

"Marry me, Ruth?"

"This is neither the time, nor the place."

"This is exactly the time, and the place."

"It's the funeral, it's made you emotional."

"No, it's made me see clearly. Ros gave everything to this country and six people came to say goodbye to her. Six people, Ruth. I don't want that for myself and I don't want that for you."

"And you know what I don't want Harry? I don't want something I've thought about a thousand times to be like this! Do you honestly think I could say yes to you standing in a graveyard, being told that the reason to marry you is so that a few more people might go to my funeral. Have you even thought about how that sounds, Harry? In fact, have you thought about this at all. Because from where I'm standing it doesn't feel like it."

She turned away, before he had chance to speak again.

"Oh and just to prove my timing is as bad as yours, you need to read this, it's about the former Home Secretary."

She handed him a file and walked away.

Harry held the file. He didn't open it. He was too taken aback by the vitriol of her reply.

Still, it could have been worse, she could have said no.

* * *

A/N I suspect Harry may soon be considering a better way to propose.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry walked on to the grid. His mood was sombre.

He took off his gloves and with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach he tossed them into the bin.

Ruth watched him from her desk. She had heard the reports of the former Home Secretary's sudden death. She watched Harry and wondered what kind of man he really was.

He sat in his office and felt betrayed, let down and rather sorry for himself. The last couple of days had really not been good ones.

"You okay, Harry?" Lucas asked from the door.

"I've been better."

"Dimitri's here. I've been giving him the guided tour."

"Good."

"Feels strange without Ros."

Harry nodded sadly.

"I didn't see you after the funeral."

"No."

Nothing more was forthcoming, so Lucas turned to go.

"Lucas, ask Ruth to come in, will you?"

Lucas nodded and was gone.

Harry sat and pondered what exactly he planned to say.

"You wanted me?" said Ruth.

"Always," he said quietly.

"Is it important?" she ignored his comment.

"I wanted to say that I am sorry for embarrassing you the other day, Ruth."

"You didn't embarrass me," her tone was cool.

"Well, in that case, I'm sorry for embarrassing myself."

"Harry, I have things to do."

"And so do I, Ruth, so do I."

She hesitated, unused to the tone of defeat and melancholy in his voice.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Define 'alright'. Am I happy? No. Do I like myself today? No. Do I hate what this job does to me? Yes."

"Now's not the time to wallow, Harry."

"Then when is?"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something to change it then."

And with that she was gone.

Harry stood up, walked out of his office, picked his gloves from the bin and marched into the pods.

"Where's he going, now?" asked Tariq, "I thought he'd just got in?'

"He had," said Lucas. "Ruth?"

"No idea," she said, "should I have?"

Lucas looked at her. Most things that Harry did, had something to do with Ruth somewhere along the line.

* * *

Harry stood by the river. He needed to think.

The job, was the job. Adrenalin fuelled and fraught with regret. He should either get on with it, or stop. There was no middle ground.

What it did to him, well, that was too late to think about. It was done. And could not be undone.

Happiness? Probably overrated. But he would like a taste of it. He'd had little enough in his life. And there was only one thing that he knew that could offer that. There only ever had been.

She hadn't said 'no'.

What had she said, exactly?

"_I don't want something I've thought about a thousand times to be like this!"_

A thousand times.

She had thought about him proposing, a thousand times.

How much more encouragement did he need that that.

He tried not to think about the look on her face as he 'd walked onto the grid. The look that said she knew he'd been to see the HS and walked away from a dead man.

A thousand times.

That is what he would focus on.

And yes, though his intentions were true and real he could admit that a graveyard, a funeral was possibly not the best place.

If she wanted romance, he would give her romance.

And that is how he would change things.

Fine.


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth opened the front door. The paper fell to the ground. It was an old habit, but it served her well.

She took off her coat and scarf, picked up the post and walked into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and began tearing at the envelopes in her hands.

Electricity bill. Tossed to one side.

Private school, enrol your children. Torn up.

Unmarked and unposted, no doubt a local circular. It was a card.

_I forgot to say that you're the reason I get up in a morning. And if you married me, you'd be the reason I'd want to go to bed._

She knew the writing, even though it was unsigned. She felt herself blush and damned herself for it. To say she was surprised was an understatement. To say that a part of her was not thrilled, would have been a lie.

But she thought of his gloves. Of death. Of the things he had done and would continue to do. And the thrill stalled.

She sighed.

She put the card on the mantelpiece and turned back to the kitchen. And then she stopped.

There was a single red rose resting in a crystal glass vase on the coffee table.

It wasn't her rose and it wasn't her vase.

There was no note.

But she knew.

It's a start, she thought.

Harry stood outside her house. He couldn't see in but he hoped she was pleased.

It was a start, he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day neither of them mentioned the card, nor the rose.

They worked, studiously, diligently, but on that matter, silently.

At the morning briefing they sat, not together, but opposite one other.

Lucas was reporting on a new cell who, according to the intel, were a threat to British security and seemingly had plans to bomb cathedrals around the country. They were based not in England but in Spain.

Ruth was set the task of finding any background on the three names they had. Tariq was to scour the sites they used to communicate with contacts in London and Lucas was to go to Bilbao to get closer to them and identify their specific targets.

Harry's job was to stay at home and try and romance Ruth. He didn't issue that as an instruction, however, but chose, wisely to keep it to himself.

He hadn't actually been listening very much. His time had been spent wondering what her reaction had been to the rose. Wondering what his next move would be. Wondering when she would actually make reference to what he was doing.

The briefing broke up and he hesitated before getting up. She hadn't lingered, as she had in the past, she left with the rest.

When she got back to her desk there was a post-it note stuck to her computer.

_If ever any beauty I did see,_

_Which I desired, and got, _

'_twas but a dream of thee_.

She tore it quickly from the screen. Unwilling for anyone else to see.

Her head bent over it as she read and read and reread.

She glanced up to check no one was watching. They were. He was.

He was standing at the window of his office, still and straight. He watched her intensely. He did not turn away. He simply stared at her.

Unable to stand the weight of his gaze any longer, she looked away. She opened a draw and stuck the note to the inside of her diary and then she tried to do some work.

She did not succeed.

When she got home that night, the note in the door still fell, but she saw that there was a light on in the living room. Her heart rate increased, not because she expected an intruder but because she felt it was something to do with Harry. She was right.

A single candle stood lit and by its flickering light she could see a delicate sheet of paper, resting across it a white rose.

_Thou sayest farewell, and lo!_

_I have thee by the hands,_

_And will not let thee go._

She smiled.

She didn't want him to let her go.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ruth, have you heard from Lucas?"

"Yes, he's infiltrated the group and sending new intel. They seem to have numerous targets but plan to dedicate the main attacks to only three, still to be determined. Their communications to London are all in Arabic, I'm working with Tariq on those."

"Good."

"And Dimitri, how's he getting on?'

"He's doing fine. He's out on surveillance, following a lead Lucas found."

Harry nodded and moved slowly towards the door.

"Thank you," he said and slid it open for her to go.

She crossed the room but he didn't move.

Her way blocked, she paused and looked beyond him to the door.

He stepped back.

She turned sideways to move past him, he had left her little room. As her body faced his, only millimetres away, she felt his intense gaze upon her.

He breathed in and his chest rose and the millimetres disappeared.

She glanced up and met his eyes, felt his breath, felt his warmth. His arm was blocking her path and she had nowhere to go.

"Ruth…" he whispered softly.

Her heart was hammering in her chest and her eyes became restless and flicked from his tie, to his eyes, to the wall beyond.

"If it takes a thousand times, then a thousand times I'll ask."

Her eyes flew to him now and she felt the blood rush to her face.

She held her breath.

He stepped away from the door.

"Ask Tariq to come in, would you?'

She felt it necessary to breath again.

She nodded at him.

He smiled the warmest, most loving of smiles.

"Okay, Harry," she said and went to find Tariq.


	6. Chapter 6

That night when Ruth got home there were no lit candles, no roses and no notes. She felt a bitter disappointment.

But she thought back to the moment in the doorway.

The intensity of him, the power of him, the nearness of him.

And she flushed once more.

She never bothered with the kettle but reached straight for a large glass of wine and then sat down.

The tv was turned on and then turned off.

Her book was picked up and then put down.

The iron was pulled out and then put back.

She could not concentrate, she could not settle.

She decided a hot bath and an early night might be a better idea.

Stretched out in the bath with the radio on and the glass of wine still in her hand, she expected to relax, but her thoughts were jumbled, hurried, fleeting, and most of all, full of him.

The only thoughts that weren't full of him revolved around her body, as she lay there wondering if she was as attractive as he would expect. If she was enough for him and then she realised that they were still merely thoughts about him.

She wrapped herself in a towel, threw her clothes into the basket and opened the bedroom door, searching for the light, wondering if the bath salts she had used were a new batch, as she seemed to smell unusually different.

That was when she realised it had nothing to do with the bath salts.

Her bedroom was full of flowers.


	7. Chapter 7

Ruth knocked on Harry's door.

"Yes," he called.

She slid it open.

"Harry…"

"Ah, Ruth…."

"Harry, I just wanted to say thank…."

"Never mind that, Ruth, I have something to ask you."

She said nothing.

"Are you okay, Ruth? You look a bit pale."

"Err..fine. I'm fine," she stammered, "what were you going to ask me?"

"Oh, yes…erm, dinner tonight, Ruth. Say yes."

"Yes."

"Oh, good, well, that was easy," he smiled.

She nodded.

"I'll pick you up at eight."

"Okay," she said and left.

* * *

Ruth sat at her desk and distracted herself with thoughts of what to wear that evening. She needed relief from the thoughts of dinner and if he might be preparing to ask her something.

She got no work done for the rest of the day.

* * *

Harry was on the grid talking to Dimitri about the results of his surveillance. His eyes kept flicking to Ruth's desk. Her's were never too far away.

Tariq stuck his head around the corner,

"Harry, Lucas, for you."

Harry picked up the nearest phone and waited for Tariq to patch him through.

"Lucas. How's it …..what?…..Yes. Yes…..Ruth?" he looked at her and sighed deeply, "Are you sure?...Yes, fine!"

The receiver was put down a little more roughly than necessary.

"What?" asked Ruth, feeling unsettled.

"The cell have left Bilbao and moved to Paris. Lucas has gone with them. He needs you with him, Ruth."

"Me?"

"He needs someone he can trust who speaks Arabic and French."

"But…"

"I'm sorry Ruth, you know I'd rather send someone else if I could," Harry's expression was one of frustration and disappointment. Deep, deep disappointment.

"I understand," she said, wondering which of them was, in fact, most disappointed, "When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"Yes, as soon as we can get you on a plane."

"Okay," she nodded, and got up.

"Tariq!" Harry shouted, "I need a legend for Ruth."

Tariq nodded and Ruth followed him.

As she walked passed Harry he caught her hand briefly, "I'm sorry about tonight, Ruth."

She smiled sadly at him, "Me, too."


	8. Chapter 8

Ruth looked out of the window and watched the Parisian streets slip by.

Every pavement cafe made her think of Harry. Made her think of the cities that could have been theirs to explore together, if only she hadn't been afraid.

"Are you okay, Ruth?"

"Fine," she nodded.

"I would have thought you'd be quite keen to get off the grid to somewhere like Paris," smiled Lucas.

"Normally, I would be."

"But not this time?"

"No, not this time."

* * *

Harry felt lost without her. It was always the way.

The grid was starved of her presence. And so was he.

He could see that his campaign was working. He knew she was beginning to feel it as much as he.

But there would be no dinner tonight.

No proposal.

However long it would be until he next saw her, it would be too long.

* * *

"I don't really understand why you need me here, Lucas. Surely you could have just got anyone with the right language skills?"

"It's more than that I need, though, Ruth."

Her eyebrows raised.

"No, nothing like that," Lucas laughed. "As terrorists go, you'll like this particular group."

"Like!"

"Well, possibly admire. They aren't passing information in any of the usual ways, they're too savvy for that and they fear their technology is breached."

"And?"

"And so they are communicating by passing intel through art exhibitions."

Ruth looked curious.

"I thought that might interest you. And that's why I need you. They're somehow hiding the relevant information they need within the artwork on display. I've tried and for the life of me I can't see it, but you Ruth, you'd find anything if you looked at it for long enough."

"I'd like to think you're right," said Ruth thinking about Harry.

"So that's what you'll be doing tomorrow. Browsing the galleries."

She was silent.

"Do you think you can manage that?"

"Do I think I can manage to walk round an art gallery in Paris? Yes, Lucas. I think I can just about manage that."

Lucas grinned, "Good, now here we are."

She got out and crossed the road alone to the hotel. Lucas was staying with the cell and had only got out to meet her on some pretext or other.

She checked in under her new legend and as the porter opened her bedroom door she discovered the most beautiful room, with large high windows and wonderfully Parisian décor.

On the table in the center of the room was an orchid.

The porter was at the door. "There is a note with the flowers, madame."

Ruth nodded and she knew suddenly that Harry had chosen the room and Harry had organized the flowers and Harry had sent the note.

_Come to me in my dreams, and then_

_By day I shall be well again!_

_For then the night will more than pay_

_The hopeless longing of the day._

She sighed and held the note to her and for all that most would long to be in Paris, she merely longed to be at home with Harry.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry woke frustrated.

His dreams had been empty of Ruth.

He would remedy that.

He could dream just as well awake.

Ruth did not want to get out of bed, she had been having such a wonderful dream.

She hoped that somewhere, far too far away, he was dreaming of her, too.

She lay there, fighting the desire to go back to sleep and conjure up his face once more.

She got up, as hard as it was, to begin the arduous task of looking at paintings, in Paris.

Alone.

Lucas had left a list of galleries at reception. He suspected that at one of the three exhibitions was the information the cell were sharing.

First stop for Ruth was Place de La Concorde and the Musee de I'Orangerie.

She rather unwillingly passed Renoir and Matisse and made for the new exhibition room. It was a collection of unattributed artists and was part of an exhibition which saw the participation of several of the city's museums.

It was an interesting concept to put this mix of styles and periods together amongst the most famed of artists. But she found they were interesting and often beautiful paintings which, had they had a name attatched, would have been almost as valuable as the rest. Some of them were, in fact, suspected of being painted by various masters but there was not enough true evidence to attribute them.

Ruth moved around the room taking in the collection. Nothing was immediately apparent but she had not expected it to be so.

She began again, painting by painting, brush stoke by brush stroke.

Look for anything, Lucas had said. Look for inconsistencies, for patterns, for messages hidden within the scene of the painting. Look for anything that might hint at which Cathedrals were being targeted. The message is somewhere in the collection, somewhere across the three galleries. Somewhere here in Paris.

She looked till her eyes were sore and her head was full. She looked till she could barely focus.

And then she walked into the bright light outside and breathed in the fresh cool air.

Her phone rang. It was Lucas.

"Anything?"

"No, I've just finished at the first but I couldn't see anything. I hope I'm not missing it Lucas."

"Ruth, I wouldn't trust anyone but you to do this. You will find it."

"But if I don't, we won't know the targets. There'll be devastation."

"Have faith, Ruth."

She laughed at the irony.

"OK. I'm on my way to the next," she said.

"And Ruth, if you can, hurry."

She ended the call and moved on.

Second on the list was the Musee d'Orsay. It was her favourite, above them all. She loved the high ceiling, the atmosphere, the enormous clock. It was a pleasure to venture inside, though she'd rather be in here with Harry.

As if he could read her thoughts, even from so far away, her phone beeped with the arrival of a text.

_Rebooked dinner for next week. Lost without u. x_

She smiled and vowed that as soon as she had finished her search she would call him. She missed his voice.

Until then she could at least reply:

_Good. _

She wondered if he would be confused as to whether she was saying good to dinner or good that he was lost. She retyped:

_Good on both counts. X_

And then she pressed send.

Again she gazed. Again she stared. Again she scanned, inch by inch, stroke by stroke desperate for the message to reach out and lead her to it.

Nothing.

She was nearing the end of the display and stood in front of a scene reminiscent of a Titian. Plump naked women lounged around what looked like an angel. They were in a grand hall, ornate and opulent. Other than that there was nothing. Fruit in a bowl, wine, a mirror, a spear at rest.

Nothing.

But no, there was something. Something reflected in the mirror.

She peered closer.

There was something horribly wrong with this painting. The reflection wasn't reversed as it should be and it wasn't in Italian, or Latin.

She stared blankly at it.

Incredulous.

It was in Mandarin.

She could not blink, she could not breathe, she could not hear. The sounds of the museum faded into nothing and all that remained was her heart hammering in her chest.

She translated it again and again and again.

Sure enough it was a hidden message.

And sure enough she could not believe the message she read there, even though it entranced her:

_Marry me, Ruth._

She looked on, her world spinning_._

The visitors surrounding her, disappearing.

The breath freezing in her chest.

"Did I do better this time?" came a familiar voice from behind.

She spun round, her tired eyes at once refreshed by the sight of a smiling, eager, loving, hopeful Harry.

"Did I, Ruth?"

She said nothing.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"I can't breathe," she said and with that she folded at the knees, her eyes rolling and collapsed into his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

Gentle arms surrounded her.

A warm chest formed her pillow.

And a familiar smell gave her comfort as she came round.

She tried to sit up.

Tender eyes gazed into hers.

"Harry….the message…the Cathedrals…"

"Ruth, you found the message. The Cathedrals are safe."

"But…."

"This was an elaborate and seemingly not very well thought out proposal, Ruth."

"No. No," said Ruth struggling upright, she paused, "it was beautifully thought out, Harry."

He smiled.

"But how did you do it, how did you get the message in the painting, or the painting in the exhibition?"

"Best not to ask, Ruth."

She shook her head, still incredulous at finding a marriage proposal hidden in a mock Titian, in the Musee d'Orsay, in Paris.

"It was wonderful," she whispered.

"I'm not sure. You weren't meant to collapse from shock. You were just meant to say yes."

"Can't a girl do both?" she said with a smile that mended his heart in a second.

"Yes, Ruth, you can do whatever you choose."

"That's nice," she said.

Harry waited.

"So are you actually saying yes, Ruth? I think I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, Harry. A thousand times, yes. Will that do?"

"Yes, Ruth, that will do."

"Harry?"

"Yes."

"You did so much better, this time."


	11. Chapter 11

"Can you get up?"

"Yes, I'm fine really."

He held out a hand and she took it.

Once she was on her feet she didn't let go.

"Well, here we are…" he said, "…in Paris."

"Took a while," she smiled.

"Longer than I expected."

"Still, like you say, we're here now. So, if there's no threat..?"

"There isn't," he reassured her.

"Then we're free to do whatever we fancy."

Harry smiled but didn't say what was in his mind, Ruth saw what was in his mind and blushed.

"The Louvre?" asked Harry.

"No," she said most determinedly.

"All painting'd out?"

"Yes, besides which I don't think I'll ever see a painting quite as wonderful as the last one."

"It did seem to make a bit of an impact, Ruth," he smiled with devilment.

She could faint again looking at that particular smile.

"Ok, Harry, what would you like to do?"

"Get married."

"Get married?

"Well, that is what comes next after a proposal."

"After the acceptance of a proposal."

"Yes, indeed," and he smiled again, still overwhelmed with the power of the word 'yes'.

"So let's get married, Ruth. Now."

"When?"

"Now. It's as good as time as any."

"Harry."

"Yes, Ruth."

"You better get ready to catch me again."


	12. Chapter 12

"Where are we going?"

"Montmatre. I know the perfect place."

Her jaw fell open and her eyes were like saucers.

"No, Ruth, not the Sacre Coueur."

A huge sigh of relief flowed over her.

"I'm good, but I'm not that good," added Harry.

Ruth smiled, he was very good.

"Besides, I would imagine you'd prefer somewhere a little more intimate."

"Harry, as adorable as all this romantic enthusiasm is," she paused, "..and it is incredibly adorable." He grinned. "You can't just go around deciding to get married on a whim…"

"Hardly a whim, Ruth."

"Yes, okay perhaps."

"It's been five years."

"You've wanted to marry me for five years!"

"Give or take."

"Okay, definitely not a whim, Harry. I concede."

"You were saying, Ruth."

"Yes, I was saying something wasn't I…..oh, yes, you can't just come to Paris and say I want to get married right now and then go window shopping for churches."

"Oh, Ruth, where's your spirit of romance?" he smiled.

"Double parked somewhere between practicality and realism."

The cab turned into a narrow sidestreet. They were close.

Harry turned to her, his eyes alight and his face awash with an excitement and happiness she had rarely seen.

"What makes you think that a man who can get a fake into the Musee d'Orsay, just to propose, couldn't possible organize a simple service in a Parisian church, Ruth?"

She gasped.

"You didn't?"

"No, I didn't,. Lucas did," he laughed, "but under my instructions, so if anything's not right you can blame me, as I'm sure you will."

"Oh, Harry."


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh, no you don't" said Harry, swinging Ruth away from the main entrance, "this way."

He guided her to a small door at the side of the church, it opened and standing there was Lucas.

"You said yes , then?" a broad smile spread across his face.

"It would have been rude not to," she answered.

Harry cleared his throat.

'Thanks, Ruth. Glad you only said yes for the sake of politeness."

Ruth thought about answering him. She thought about saying something facetious, she thought about saying something romantic but it the end she said nothing but took his hand and squeezed it.

"You best get a move on," said Lucas, hurrying them inside.

As he closed the door to what seemed like the vestry he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tie, handing it to Harry. Unusually, but understandably, Ruth hadn't really had time to take much notice of what he was wearing until now. It was a dark suit with an open necked blue shirt.

"Don't," she said suddenly as Harry's hands threw the tie around his neck.

"I can't get married without a tie, Ruth."

"But…but.."

"But what?" he said, paused, tie in hand.

"…but you look sexy without it."

Harry handed the tie back to Lucas.

"You heard the lady," he said as the corners of his mouth gave away his smug sense of satisfaction.

"Then will I do, Ruth?"

Harry stood before her, Lucas hovered by the door, eager to get him into the church.

She looked at him. She was about to marry Harry Pearce. Finally.

She picked a tiny piece of fluff from his lapel.

"Yes, Harry, you'll do."

He smiled and turned to the door.

As it echoed shut Lucas looked at her, his eyes drifted from head to toe. Ruth did the same. She had been so lost in Harry she hadn't given herself a second thought.

"I can't get married in a cardigan," she said.

Lucas smiled and nodded his head towards a small side room, "be quick."

He closed the door behind her and then she saw the beautiful silk aubergine dress hanging up behind her, below it a pair of matching strapped sandals and on the table lay a small posy of wild flowers.

Ruth rifled through her bag in search of the make up she needed to hide the tears that were already falling. She wondered if he had thought of everything and then concluded he had.

Lucas turned and felt his jaw drop at the transformation before him.

"Will I do, Lucas?" she asked.

"Oh, you'll more than do. I think I'll marry you myself. Come on, sod Harry," he said grabbing her hand and pretending to pull her towards the outer door.

"He'll come after us, if we do," laughed Ruth.

"I know he will. Never mind, Ruth, you'll just have to marry him after all."

"Oh well," she sighed playfully.

"He's a lucky man," he said, more serious now.

"No, I'm the lucky one, Lucas. Come on, or he'll think I've changed my mind."

He held out his arm for her.

"May I?"

"You most certainly may."

She took his arm and they walked through the door into the church.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N Had intended to finish this just after the proposal but you all seem to be lapping it up so here we are still! Short chapter cos I'm knackered.

* * *

Beethoven's piano sonato no. 8 'pathetique' sounded across the church.

Ruth determined not to cry, she was far too happy, but that was the very reason why she wanted to cry.

The church was beautiful, she knew it to be the oldest in Paris, but she also knew that one of the reasons it looked so beautiful were the abundance of both flowers and candles that adorned it. And she had no doubt who was responsible for that. He was standing before her, a broad smile across his face, a face that shone with love and need and hope.

"Bon chance, madamoiselle," whispered an old lady, the only guest in the church.

Ruth smiled warmly at her.

"She's the other witness," murmured Lucas.

Ruth nodded but her eyes were now fixed on Harry and they would not leave him.

As she settled beside him he said in a soft voice, "you look beautiful, Ruth."

"Thank you, but it's all down to the choice of dress."

He tried to raise his eyes to hers but they were too busy admiring what he had chosen.

"No, Ruth, it's all down to how you fill the dress."

She smiled shyly, pleased with the compliment.

"This is the music from the restaurant when we went to dinner," she whispered.

"Is it, Ruth? There's a coincidence," he was smiling still.

"Harry, I…" she was about to tell him she loved him but the priest began.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N Very short one before bed - that's bed for me, not them!

* * *

"You are able…now" The priest nodded his head at them.

Harry and Ruth looked at him slightly baffled.

Not knowing what else to do they nodded back.

The priest stopped nodding.

"You are able to…."

They looked.

"To kiss."

"Ahhh," said Harry and Ruth in a joint burst of comprehension.

"I may kiss the bride," said Harry, looking at Ruth.

"Quite so," said the priest relieved to have been reminded of the English phrase he always struggled with. However as he looked on they still had not kissed.

"Maintenant," he suggested.

Harry had waited a long time, he wasn't going to be rushed.

In a beautiful reversal of their last kiss, he took Ruth's face in his hands, cradled it lovingly, and lost himself in her deep blue eyes, knowing he need never again have to resurface.

And then he kissed her.

Relieved, the priest nodded at his assistant and a moment later Beethoven's Ode to Joy burst forth, resonating around the church.

Lucas stood smiling.

The elderly lady, his fellow witness grabbed him, pulling him to her and kissing both his cheeks with a cheery smile.

Harry and Ruth finally untangled themselves and stood gazing at each other.

"Is this coincidence too, Harry?" asked Ruth referring to the music.

"No, Ruth," he said and smiled and began walking her back down the aisle.

"Felicitations, _Madame" _beamed the old lady kissing Ruth and then Harry.

As they walked on towards the church door Harry wiped his eyes.

The gesture was not lost on Ruth, "Harry?"

"It's just a draft, Ruth."

She nodded and gripped his hand tighter.

"Of course it is."


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for all the really lovely reviews.

* * *

**

Lucas pulled up in the car. Harry stood outside waiting for Ruth.

He missed her already.

The door of the vestry opened and there she was, changed back into her other clothes, her dress and shoes in a bag on her shoulder.

"You look lovely, Ruth but I think I prefer the dress."

"That's because it reveals more," she smiled.

"And what's wrong with that he?" he grinned, a hand drifting to her waist.

"Nothing," she admitted coyly, "I'll wear it for you later."

His hand gripped her a little tighter.

"Okay, do you want the good news, or the bad?" Lucas stood by the car.

"The good," said Ruth brightly.

"You're married," announced Lucas, his arms outstretched, "and that's not just good news, it's a minor miracle."

She laughed. It was a minor miracle.

"And the bad?" asked Harry, sensing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"No more miracles, just reality."

"The grid," murmered Ruth.

"Yes. Assassination threat to the royal family. All hands on deck, I'm afraid."

Harry looked at her.

"I'm sorry, Ruth."

"It's not your fault, Harry. So much for having my wedding night in Paris, it'll probably just be a night on the grid."

He leant in, his cheek against hers, his lips hovering above her ear and whispered in a deep and resonant growl.

"Wherever it is and whenever it is, it will be worth waiting for. And that Ruth, is a promise."

She wondered not for the first time that day if she was about to faint.


	17. Chapter 17

"Harry, do they know?"

"What?"

"The team, do they know about us?"

They were in a car heading back to the grid. Lucas was driving, Harry and Ruth sat on the backseat. Their hands had not been parted since the scanner at the airport.

"They know a little. I told them I needed to get you to Paris but that was all. I think they probably suspect something.

Ruth looked at her free hand.

Is that all right, Ruth?" he asked, suddenly worried as her old insecurities came back to haunt him.

"Actually…" said Lucas before Ruth had chance to answer, "I told them."

Harry and Ruth both looked at him.

"They suspected….well…they were guessing…. and then they made me tell them."

"So let me get this right, Lucas. You spent god knows how many years behind bars being tortured by the Russians and not one thing passed you lips."

Lucas nodded.

"But Tariq, Dimitri and the new girl, fearsome and terrifying threesome that they are, somehow made you spout forth the truth about Ruth and I?"

Ruth couldn't help but suppress a giggle.

Harry relaxed a little.

Lucas looked contrite.

"They're really much more formidable than you'd imagine."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"It's alright Harry, it's not like we can really hide it anyway," said Ruth.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she smiled, "You're my husband and I don't care what anyone thinks anymore."

Even if, at that moment, his life had depended upon it, he would not have been able to keep the smile from his face

"Say it again, Ruth."

"I don't care what anyone thinks anymore."

"Not that bit."

She knew exactly what he had meant.

"You're my husband, Harry."

"Yes, I am, aren't I?"

Smug was not the word. He was way past smug.


	18. Chapter 18

**This is definitely reaching it's sell by date. Short chapters as I think I've nearly said it all.**

* * *

The pod doors whooshed open.

Harry and Ruth stepped out together. But this time they stepped out from the same pod.

Beth and Dimitri said nothing, they were very new but they knew enough to recognise that something had changed.

Tariq appeared from round the corner. He grinned but said nothing.

"Briefing room, five minutes," said Harry and he turned to Ruth, "and for anyone who's in any doubt, this is my wife."

He winked at Ruth and walked off to his office, pulling her by the hand.

"That was all rather neanderthal," said Ruth smiling.

"Face it head on, I'd say, Ruth. Beisides which, I've been dying to say that since Paris."

"Well, you've said it now. Feel better?"

"Yes, considerably. I think I'll say it daily."

"You've run out of people to say it to, Harry."

"Then I'll find more, even if I don't know them."

She laughed.

"Are you happy, Ruth?"

"Am I…?"

She was surprised by the question.

"Are you?"

"Harry, there is no one thing, nor any combination of things that could make me happier than I am right now."

"Maybe you'll change your mind later."

"Why, what happens later?"

Harry raised his eyebrows and walked from the room.

"Harry Pearce!" Ruth called from behind him.

He smiled and so did she.


	19. Chapter 19

"It's going to be a long night," said Harry.

And it was.

But not for the reasons he would have liked.

The assassination was well planned and nearly well executed...literally.

At 3am the danger was over. They could all go home.

Ruth suddenly recognised something she had not thought about before now.

Reality.

The here and now. The whole practicality of life with Harry. A man whom she knew intimately at work, but privately was almost a stranger.

And it worried her.

"Right," said Harry, grabbing his coat, "let's go."

Ruth hesitated.

"What's wrong?"

"I….we…." she tailed off.

Harry sat down before her.

"Ruth, talk to me, whatever you say is fine."

"But… where do we go, Harry?"

He smiled reassuringly, "well seeing as Lucas has installed Beth at yours, I suggest we go back to mine."

"Oh, right," she nodded but not convincingly.

"If you're worried about Fidget, don't be, he's been well looked after."

She smiled, wondering if there was nothing he had not already thought of.

"Harry, I love you."

He blinked with surprise at hearing the words for the very first time.

"That's good, Ruth, otherwise this would have been a very one sided relationship."

"Marriage, Harry. It's a marriage."

"I'm sorry, Ruth but it's so easy to forget.

She looked at him a little wounded.

"It's just that I've dreamt of being married to you for so long, that it's hard to remember that I only just have been."

"So much for the novelty."

"Oh, no Ruth the novelty is just beginning."

She smiled and looked at her hands. They were entwined with his.

"Okay, Harry. Let's go home."

So they did.


	20. Chapter 20

**Getting very schmalzy now!**

* * *

They both stood outside his front door.

Ruth felt desperately nervous.

Harry felt desperately elated.

The door swung open.

"I should carry you over the threshold."

"Please don't."

"Good. The mind's willing, but the body's a little reluctant, Ruth."

She laughed and crossed into the hall and then before she knew she had said the first thing that came into her mind.

"As long as you don't say that later on!"

He looked at her and she looked at him and she wished the moment reversed by several seconds so that this time she could shut her mouth.

Harry shut it for her.

He pushed her gently but firmly against the wall and met her mouth with an eager, passionate kiss. And then gently he eased his lips away and whispered,

"I promise you that there is no chance on god's earth that I will be saying that later on."

And as she struggled for breath he took her hand and led her into his house.

Into their house.

As they walked into the living room what breath she had recovered was stopped again.

"Harry!" she gasped.

"Hopefully it'll do for now, Ruth."

She looked and blinked and disbelieved.

"…but Harry….how?"

"Is it okay, Ruth?"

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Yes, but please don't let that stop you," he smiled.

"Thank you, thank you Harry," she said.

And she looked around the room that he had filled with her things.

Her ornaments, her photos, her belongings.

And they did indeed belong.

And sitting on the sofa, by a very excitable dog was Fidget, contentedly licking her paw.

"I wanted you to feel at home," said Harry.

She put her hand on his chest.

"I am home, Harry."


	21. Chapter 21

"Have you seen the time?" she asked.

Harry looked at the clock on the mantlepiece.

It was 4.30am.

"It's late," he said.

"Or early," she added.

"Whichever it may be, Ruth, it's time …."

She finished the thought for him "…to go to bed."

The words hung in the air.

And they both knew and they both desired, and expected, and anticipated what was to come.

"You go on, I'll lock up," he said and kissed her cheek.

She nodded and headed for the stairs.

He began to tidy away their glasses.

"Harry?"

He turned.

She looked a look of innocent confusion.

"The second door on the left," he smiled, "there's an en suite in there."

She smiled at him and turned away.

"Ruth."

She paused.

He looked at her, standing there in his house, on the way upstairs to his bed and he wanted to say so much.

"Nothing," he said.

And he disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

Harry walked out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, his shirt loosely fastened.

The door to the en suite opened as he entered the bedroom and Ruth appeared.

For the second time that day she took his breath away.

"I promised you I'd wear it," she said, standing in the beautiful aubergine dress she had worn earlier that very long day.

He breathed deeply, maintaining control over the intensity of emotion he was feeling.

Her heart beat erratically and uncontrollably

He walked slowly over to her and stopped an inch away, his eyes feasting on her.

And very slowly he raised his hands and his fingers began to run over the silk dress, tracing her shape through the thin material.

Ruth held down the desire rising within her.

"Harry, what did you want to say before, downstairs?"

He shook his head, his hands still exploring, his eyes still devouring.

"It seemed important," she prompted.

"I can't."

"Try, please, Harry."

"I haven't got the words, Ruth," he said emotionally.

She nodded and touched his face.

He raised his eyes to hers.

"I can't tell you, but I can show you."

And show her he did.


	22. Chapter 22

Ruth lay smiling.

Beside her, Harry slept.

She watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall and drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

The smile never truly leaving her lips.

Harry's eyes slowly, sleepily opened.

The first image that greeted him, was her.

And for once, it wasn't a dream.

Harry lay smiling.

Beside him, Ruth slept.

He edged delicately closer, eager not to wake her.

He felt her breath on his chest, her skin against his skin, her hair wound through his fingers.

And then he too drifted back into a deep and contented sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Ruth's eyes opened. Beside her was an indented pillow, where a head had been but no longer was.

She looked around the room and found him, he was gazing out of the window at the rain.

She looked at the clock.

11.30am.

After their late return from the grid and his fulfillment of his promise they hadn't had an awful lot of sleep.

"Harry," she called gently.

He turned at her voice.

"Hi," he whispered and padded softly back to the bed.

"You're freezing," and she wrapped her body around him like a blanket.

"Sorry," he said.

She said nothing more, knowing that there was something on his mind.

They lay quietly as he thawed in her arms.

"Ruth," he finally whispered, still looking at the ceiling.

She moved her head so that she could see him.

But still he said nothing.

She felt the worry rising in her chest.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

He turned his head to her.

"Harry?"

He breathed deeply.

"I love you, Ruth."

"Is that all?" she laughed, relieved.

"What do you mean is that all?"

"Sorry but I thought there was something wrong."

"There is something wrong."

She was alerted again.

"I knew it, what?"

"I can't see straight, I can't think straight, I can barely breathe when I look at you. I love you, Ruth and it overwhelms me that you're my wife."

She gasped a little.

"Say it again, Harry."

And now the smile returned to his face.

"I can't see straight."

"Not that bit," she prodded him.

"It overwhelms me that you're my wife."

She smiled.

"Good."

And she lay back on her pillow, smiling smugly.

After a moment she glanced at him.

"Are you just going to lie there, Harry," she said playfully, "or are you going to do something about it?"

He didn't need a second invitation. He'd show her how it felt to be overwhelmed.

* * *

**The End.**


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